Page 29 of Mafia Captor

“They’re assholes. They only come around when they want something.”

“Not true. You have to earn their respect, but we can agree to disagree,” I huff. “Anyway, I appreciate that you’re keeping me safe. I’ll stay here until you feel like it’s okay for me to go back to my apartment. And I’ll be going back to my real life, working for Tess.”

“Fine. That’s fair.”

I’m surprised by how quickly he gives me up.

I quickly add, “But while I’m here, I’m all yours.”

“All mine?” He shoots me a lewd grin and a seductive waggle of his brow.

Naughty boy. Sex with me never seems to be far from his mind.

“Not like that, Boston. I need to work. I can’t not work.”

He gives it a long minute, thinking. “You know, I’ve been looking for a house manager.”

Whaaat?

Oh my gosh. I used to read regency romance, just for the descriptions of the houses and gardens. Now I’m living in one of those homes I thought I’d only ever see in my imagination.

And…

I get to run it… the way I want? I take a peek at Boston. He’s checking his phone, obviously ready to get back to work. Seems like he’s going to be pretty hands off.

He looks up from the screen. “The staff do their best, but I go through them pretty quick. It’s kinda chaos with the turnover.”

I look around. “Where are they all going? Are you trading them for stuff? I know you have a habit of trading people.”

“You’re the only one worth trading for.” He gives me a lewd wink.

He doesn’t mean it. He’s staring at me like he does.

I feel… flustered.

I look away. “Yeah, right. What really happens?”

He shrugs, completely unbothered by the fact that his staff turns over like people change their underwear. “They just don’t last very long.”

“They quit?” I’ve managed quite a few small teams. I’ve yet to have an employee leave.

He shrugs. “Yeah. They kinda hate me. Something about me being an asshole to work for?” He shrugs again. “Not sure.”

“If someone quit on me, I’d be doing my best to figure out what I did wrong.”

“That’s just it,” he says, already bored by this conversation. “I don’t care enough. I want to focus on my work, not organizing the people who order the light bulbs.”

“Consider house management taken off your hands. I love that stuff. You had me atorganize.” I hold out my hand to shake on the deal.

He takes my hand to his mouth, kissing it all sensual-like. “And when do I haveyouagain.” He says it as a statement. A fact about something that is inevitable, that will happen.

Not a question.

We need to nip this in the bud. We will not be rekindling whatever happened in the secret room. I lock eyes with him. “That will be happening, never.”

“We’ll see.”

“Cocky much, mister?”

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